Tag: scrap-yard

Writing Wednesday

Kinsmart die cast model of the classic 1953 Cadillac Series 62.

I actually am not writing today, or haven’t so far. I’m mostly outlining on paper, and mentally, a bunch of possible scenes and plot points that will eventually bring the Neverending Saga to a close. And when I write those words–“to a close”–my brain can’t quite conceive of it. It isn’t that I want to drag this out forever, like a nighttime TV drama where characters go through more jobs and marriages and crises in seven seasons than most people will ever experience in their entire lives. (Or, for that matter, a daytime TV drama, where characters die and return to life on a consistent basis, and sometimes they look very different, and sometimes they’ll die again and return looking like their original version. Soap operas are a delight in that way, and I say that sincerely.)

I’ll be happy when all my deserving characters are happy and doing what they should be, and then I’ll leave them alone for a while. If I rewrite the second and third 1990s novels, many of these characters appear again in supporting roles. Plus I have three strong ideas for completely unrelated novels. I have much I can write, but I’m not anywhere near saying goodbye to this group yet.

I do reflect a lot on what I changed from the 1990s versions, and I’m happy with those choices. I provided backstories where there were none. I changed or let go of certain storylines that I never thought I would, but doing so opened up so many better possibilities. There were people who read those 1990s books and said they loved them, and I have no way of knowing if they would love these.

If I were to tell you some of the ways these seven manuscripts I’ve poured my time and heart and effort into for the last seven years have been a means for a few people to criticize, belittle, or disrespect me, you might wonder why I keep going. It’s okay. The books and I are still standing. The people who respect what I do or who love me are still supportive in a range of ways. The others are either no longer a part of my life or if they are, I mostly stopped talking about writing with them (sort of the way most of us avoided talking about politics, religion, or our problematic relatives before it became a thing to share all that over social media–with words and videos–and now we can’t avoid it by moving to the other side of the globe because our phones will deliver it all to us 24/365. My detractors are safe from this rambling commentary since they also don’t read this blog.).

I had a lovely period of time once when things I wrote were published. Maybe I’ll get to experience that again. Maybe not. Publishing didn’t bring me riches or acclaim or the security that I’d always have a writing career. It brought me happiness, a sense of fulfillment, and the understanding that I’m able to follow through and finish things.


Some day, I hope you’ll come along for the ride with the Neverending Saga.

And remember…

Tiny Tuesday!

I guess Tiny Tuesday is a good occasion to offer a decent goodbye to this pencil that’s becoming too short for me to scribble notes to myself without discomfort (arthritis in my fingers). So long, Peewee, and thanks for your service. Notice I’m replacing you with another of your kind because you Ticonderoga Noir No. 2 Pencils are the BEST.

Run to you


The most recent play list: Diana Ross and the Supremes 2-CDs, Anthology. Not really sure why they were in the middle of the “T”s but they have now been relocated correctly in the CD binders. Also listened to the Trio CD from Dolly Parton, Linda Ronstadt, and Emmylou Harris.


Forthcoming: U2’s Achtung, Baby 1991, and Pop, 1997.
I didn’t lose any U2 albums in the flood. What I had was on cassettes long ago and long gone, including Rattle and Hum, which I’ll likely get again. I must have something in iTunes–Oh, yes! The one everyone with an iTunes account received free in September 2014 before it was released that October, Songs of Innocence. I remember the bitterness from people who aren’t U2 fans having it downloaded into their iTunes without their consent. I also have “Invisible,” the RED edition, in iTunes.

I have no beef with U2. Sometimes I agree with their messages; sometimes I don’t. Some of their music resonates with me, some doesn’t. I used a tear of their sheet music to get a lyric for a painting I did a couple of years ago. Afterward, I was thrilled to remember I have a brother-in-law who loves U2, so I offered, and he gave a home to, the painting. That made me really happy, because I love him and respect what U2 means to him.

I’m making great effort not to amplify what distresses me most in the world. I’m trying to make my little world, including Houndstooth Hall and its writing sanctuary, as well as this blog, places where I feel safe. I can’t always shut down my anxieties and distress over global events, politics, war, and hate. I can only try to manage them. I appreciate the people in my life who understand this isn’t a new struggle for me, but it has been exacerbated by several factors in recent years.

I saw this the other day and it resonated, too. Doing my best.

Below, one of my favorite U2 songs, is supposed to be about a guy who’s fallen in love and is a little overwhelmed by it. But it always makes me think of a message my mother once sent to me through Tom:
“Tell Becky to stop trying to save the world.”

Hump Day Humor

A few things I’ve snagged from friends I follow on Instagram. I can’t always attest that I’m aligned with the original sources, because I don’t follow them. But these amused me, wherever they came from.

The horror!

On behalf of my French or French-speaking characters.

Mickey knows what he did.

I related way too well to this.

This is like the quicksand on shows I saw as a kid, but this one was more a part of adolescence.

ETA: Found another one (very) early Thursday morning.

Thursday thoughts


A little errand running today, which earned me this self-indulgence. Decadent, maybe, but at least that’s a reusable straw and the cup is recyclable.

I was thinking about my Wednesday post and remembered I’d saved this on my phone. Still makes me laugh every time.

I’m writing again. Makes me feel like SUPERMAN!

(Except not in a display box. Though Rhonda has said, when she’s in the hallway and passing the sanctuary with its gate to keep out dogs, how she feels like she’s at one of those historical landmarks where stanchions block visitors from some rooms. 🤣)

Button Sunday

Balance.

Once again, I had to clear some saved stuff off my phone. You can see it all behind the cut if you’re so inclined. Just things that caught my eye or made me pause and think for a moment. A lot of times, these things I save make me think more about my characters or other people than about myself. I’m always looking for more wisdom, regardless, so I always hope something resonates with people who read here. =)

Continue reading “Button Sunday”

Good goin’, stranger

Post title is a quote from Madonna, as Susan, in the film Desperately Seeking Susan, a movie I still enjoy and watched again as recently as some point during the pandemic. This post that showed up on Instagram is what made me think of it, and I have a similar story to share.

It was likely early in 2008 when I made a small shopping list and went to Kroger. This was at the point when I was having such severe back pain (later diagnosed as caused by swollen disks and hairline vertebral fractures) that I wasn’t able to do much. It was also during the last few months of my mother’s life, when she was getting hospice visits in her residential care home, was admitted to hospice for a short period to provide respite care to me, and then was admitted permanently to hospice before she died in June.

I was also under deadline to turn in my second Coventry novel, which my editor blessedly extended to take some of the pressure off of me.

Clearly, I was under a lot of stress while dealing with physical pain. One of the things on my shopping list that evening was Velveeta (TexMex queso night!). Though I had a few of my items in my cart, I couldn’t find this on any shelves or in any dairy case, and I was leaning on my cart, taking as much pressure off my back as I could, until I froze in the way pain can have of making a body lock. Tears of frustration and pain streamed down my face, and a Kroger employee who’d come from one of the back rooms to restock something saw me. He immediately came to me and helped me to a patio table display so that I could sit down. I knew I sounded stupid when I said, “I can’t find the Velveeta.”

“I know where it is; what size do you need?” he asked.

Then he took my shopping list from my hand, handed me my purse from the cart, and took the cart and the list through the store to find everything remaining on my list. When he came back, he helped me up, pushed my cart to check-out, and grabbed a bagger to make sure I had help out to my car.

Of course I thanked him profusely, still crying as I can do when someone’s kind when I’m already in melt-down mode, and thanked the cashier and bagger, too, for their help.

His actions that day are often the reason I notice other people showing patience and kindness in similar situations. There may be no videos of those moments on social media, and if anyone even shares a story (as I’ve just shared mine), there’ll most often be cynical and jaded comments along the line of, “Things that never happened!” as if people are never kind to strangers. I think even believing in kindness makes us more likely to see it and show it.

changing my mind

I wrote a long post about the Neverending Saga and then I reminded myself no one cares and I deleted it. What might you care about? A dog? One of them ate part of my leather purse. I need a new purse now. There’s no way to know which dog, so I’m not blaming this one. This is just a recent photo of Jack in which he seemed to be deep in thought. It was taken before the Incident of the Purse.

Here’s the playlist for what I’ve listened to during writing sessions on Thurs/Fri/today.

Sinéad O’Connor: “I Do Not Want What I Haven’t Got” and “Am I Not Your Girl?”; The Paris Sisters, “I Love How You Love Me Plus 30 More Hits”; Pancho’s Lament: Self-Titled, “Leaving Town Alive,” and “3 Sides To Every Story.”

And if you look at the below meme-ish things and wonder why I’m putting them here, I’m wondering who’s benefitting from all the hate being stirred up toward certain groups of people.
Continue reading “changing my mind”

Rainy day smiles

A few things I grabbed from Instagram that might make you smile.

Angela, an online friend in Georgia who’s an actor, coincidentally posted this the same day I talked about Macbeth on here.

A truly feel-good story about people uniting.

Teaching moments courtesy of kindhearted truckers.


Do you have a junk drawer? More than one? Here’s ours. Junky, right?

Making me happy, because it means I’ve been writing some… I seem finally to have reached the end of the “M” artists on my Writing Playlist, unless I’ve overlooked something. These last few CDs provided quite a varied list.


Ian Moore, Modernday Folklore; Alanis Morissette, Jagged Little Pill and Supposed Former Infatuation Junkie; Van Morrison, The Best of Van Morrison; Mumford & Sons, Babel and Sigh No More; Shawn Mullins, Soul’s Core; Michael Martin Murphy, Austinology: Alleys of Austin.

Jagged Little Pill takes me back to the place I worked in 1995 and makes me think of Nora, who told me about the bonus track and how it made her think of someone we knew, and Lisa Y, because we listened to it the nights I hung out with her while she worked on a mural in our company’s break room.

Saturday and not yet tax day


Usually when I use the journal Lynne gave me last May, I color a little, write a little, etc. It means that if I want to take a photo of it, I have to block out whatever I’ve written because that journal, at least, isn’t meant for public consumption. So this time I colored, photographed, then wrote.


If my coloring choices are too subtle or are unfamiliar, let me be clear. The top colors are from the transgender flag. I absolutely support transgendered people and am appalled at the hate, lies, and vitriol being directed their way by an ignorant, cruel public and by legislators and courts. Once again, a person’s right to privacy, particularly in medical matters, is being violated, but even worse, there is a blatant call to eliminate transgendered people. This is fascism. This is inhumanity. This is immoral.

The middle colors should surely be familiar after decades of LGBTQ+ activism and progress, which is also currently under attack in terms of privacy and equal rights. If you don’t know where I stand on this issue, you’re new here.

I chose those last colors for all the people over decades who attended Sunday school or Vacation Bible School and sang, “Red and yellow, black and white, they are precious in His sight, Jesus loves the little children of the world.” Some of y’all had a lot more sense as children.

Also, I’d like to make note of my belief that if you think a child is too ignorant to recognize when a person is in costume, then maybe you need to avoid or end: Santa Claus; the Easter Bunny; Easter, Thanksgiving, and Christmas pageants; Halloween and every costume from Super Heroes to witches, to cartoon or video game characters, to ghosts and zombies and skeletons and vampires; high school, college, and professional sports team mascots; Chuckie Cheese and other characters in costume used to push products (Ronald McDonald? Hamburglar? that Buc-ee’s beaver? Mr. Peanut? Tony the Tiger? the Michelin Man? the Jolly Green Giant? the Chick-fil-A cows?); all characters in costume at amusement parks (yes, even princesses); the musical Cats (is that too easy?); and military, royal (real or Game of Thrones), religious, angel, fairy, gnome, hobbit, magician, wizard, circus, bodybuilder, hunting, role playing, chef, police, firefighter, nurse, doctor, judge, race car driver–whatever costume aka “drag” of all types that will ensure that you’ve stripped the world of everything fun, whimsical, imaginary, and creative.

I only wrote all of that because it isn’t what I wrote in the journal with the coloring pages, and I needed to put it somewhere. You’re welcome.

Continue reading “Saturday and not yet tax day”